Sherlock, John and Child
by They Call Me Mrs. Holmes
Summary: Sherlock and John have a young daughter, Elizabeth. Is completed, however reviews are much appreciated, and if liked, would carry on and write more fics with a child. Mrs. H x


Elizabeth woke up; she looked around her purple room and sighed. She knew it was late, it was really dark outside and Daddy had switched on her moon shaped night light. She looked at her sun clock, and guessed the time. Papa had been teaching her, it looked about 11? 12? 12 o'clock, that was late. She knew what she wanted, a glass of milk, Papa always has one when he gets up at night.

Elizabeth slid of her bed and waddled to the door, trying not to make any noise. She opened the door and slowly made her way down the hall. The closer she got to the kitchen, the more she could hear a strange noise. It sounded like Daddy playing the violin; she loved it when he did that! She picked up her pace and almost ran down the hall, through the kitchen and into the living room.

Inside, she found Papa's laptop on the desk, playing a song Daddy must've recorded. In the middle of the room was Daddy and Papa standing, well, swaying. The pair was in each other's arms, with Daddy's chin resting upon Papa's head. Elizabeth sat down by the kitchen and watched the two of them silently. Papa leant up and whispered something in Daddy's ear, who laughed and gave him a light kiss on his lips. Daddy, who was leading, spun the two of them around slowly in time to the song, Daddy looked up and saw Elizabeth sat on the floor and stepped away. Papa turned around at glared at the girl crouched by the doorway.

"Elizabeth, what are you doing?" demanded Papa.

"Come on John, lighten up, it's okay," said Daddy trying to calm Papa.

"No, it's not, she should be in _bed_ Sherlock," hissed John. Elizabeth stood up and walked over to her fathers and placed a small, fragile hand on each of their arms.

"Please don't fight," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

They both sighed, "We're not fighting, don't worry," soothed Papa.

Daddy picked up Elizabeth and held her on his hips, "Come on, why were you awake?"

"I couldn't get to sleep, I was awake, so I thought I could get a glass of milk like Papa does?"

The older man smiled, and placed a comforting hand on his daughter's cheek. He nodded and walked into the kitchen to get a glass. He opened the fridge to get the milk, when he saw a bag of red, slimy objects. "Sherlock," he warned. He picked up the bag to examine it more closely, "A bag of livers? _What_ did I tell you about leaving this in the fridge? What if she got her hands on it?"

Daddy put Elizabeth down and said calmly, "They are in a bag, on the top shelf, John. The probability of Elizabeth getting them is very slim. And anyway, she knows not to touch my experiments and items in bags."

"She is a child, Sherlock," growled Papa.

"I wouldn't touch it!" cried the girl, "Promise!"

Papa smiled, sighed, and put the bag back in the fridge at the back of the top shelf. He got out the milk and poured a glass, before returning the carton to the fridge and handing the glass to his child.

"What were you doing?" asked Elizabeth.

Papa's face turned red, whilst Daddy looked down on the floor. They both giggled as Papa said, "We were dancing, lovely."

"Why?"

"I love to dance, and so does your father occasionally. So I like to compose my music and then play it for him," explained Daddy.

"I'm afraid I am not nearly as good as your Daddy," said Papa. "Old war wounds, I'm afraid, stops me from moving as much."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John and smiled; he took the glass from her hands and placed it on the table, before picking up his daughter. He swung her around, before saying, "Come here John."

Papa held Daddy's hand and Elizabeth's, whilst she rested on Daddy's pointy hip. The music, which had still been playing softly, changed to a new tune, and Daddy led all three of them, across the living room floor. Elizabeth sighed and rested her head in between her two parents; Papa looked up at Daddy and smiled. All three of them glided around the room, expertly led by the graceful Sherlock. He looked down, and could hear the light snuffle of his daughter sleeping. He whispered something to John, and they both shuffled down the corridor and into the girl's bedroom.

They placed the small child on her bed, and John brushed away her light brown curls from her face. "She has hair like you," whispered John.

"And a heart like you," replied Sherlock.

He tucked in Elizabeth into her bed, and walked out the room hand in hand with John. They walked back down into the living room and stood in the centre. John placed his hand in Sherlock's, as he guided his partner about the room. The tune changed to a slower melody, and Sherlock stopped and swayed with his partner in the middle. They stayed like that for the rest of the night, until dawn, when they kissed and headed into their room, smiling.


End file.
